


It Was Only Supposed To Be A Distraction

by AmorDamozel



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Damian Wayne-centric, Depression, Gen, Hurt, Mentions of hell, Unbeta'd, attempted comfort, very vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23292997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmorDamozel/pseuds/AmorDamozel
Summary: Damian talks about something he'd rather not to give Batman more time to get to him, thinking no one but Joker could hear him.He was wrong.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 14
Kudos: 370





	It Was Only Supposed To Be A Distraction

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the sinners and the saints](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23266036) by [call_me_steve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_steve/pseuds/call_me_steve). 



> I'm tired. I'm Sad. Damian went to hell. 
> 
> So I wrote this little thing and didn't really edit it.
> 
> Sorry.
> 
> On the upside, I didn't cry while writing this- only had tears in my eyes the entire time.

It had been to keep him talking.

Joker had destroyed his comms and was going to kill him in his ‘Hellhouse’.

So Damian had started pointing out everything wrong with the Hellhouse. How unlike Hell it was. Damian complaining had lead to the Joker explaining his artistic decisions and asking questions about Hell.

It had given Batman the time he needed to get to Damian before Joker could kill him. It’s not like anyone would believe Joker if he said Robin had been to Hell.

Or if they did they’d assume it was a mission.

Damian’s comms had been destroyed. None of his family had heard his very personal recounts of demons, of torture, of _waiting_. 

It was the only reason Damian had gone off like he did.

Except.

Except apparently his comms weren’t fully destroyed.

He couldn’t receive anything, but his family could receive things from him.

Oracle had heard everything.

Damian hadn’t known for a few days until he had visited her alone in the Clocktower and she asked, if a tone that indicated she was close to crying, 

“Damian, did you go to Hell when you died?”

Damian didn’t answer her. Too shocked by what she had asked to. Instead, he ran. 

What else was he to do?

So Damian waited in his room.

He waited for Oracle to tell the rest of his family.

He waited for them to come running in.

He waited for them to bombard him with questions on why he didn’t tell them.

He waited for them to try and get him to _talk_. 

He waited for them to try and comfort him.

He waited for them.

But they never came.

Before the thought that Oracle didn’t tell them even crossed his mind, a half dozen others did first.

_”They don’t care.”_

_“They think I deserved it.”_

_“They wish I was still there.”_

_“They think I should of stayed longer.”_

_“They wish they’d never pull me out.”_

_“They think my punishment should’ve been worse.”_

His family thinks Damian deserved Hell.

Damian didn’t disagree with them.

When it finally occurs to him that Oracle might not of told them, Damian couldn’t understand why.

Why wouldn’t she?

Why would she keep his secret?

Why would she not tell his family?

Why would she not tell his _father_?

Why would she care?

Damian’s not sure he wants answers to those questions. So he never asks them.

A week goes by before he visits the Clocktower again. It for business since Batman wanted some files and _apparently_ couldn’t be assed to email Oracle about them. Oracle gives him the files before she breaches the topic.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Why didn’t you tell them?” Damian shoots back. 

He doesn’t have a good reason. 

He didn’t want them to worry.

He didn’t think they’d care.

He didn’t think it’d matter.

He wanted it all to be in the past.

Where did they think he’d go?

“It’s not my secret to tell. But I don’t think it should be a secret Dami.” Gordon states, sounding soft. Sounding kind. Sounding gentle. Like she thinks he’s about to break.

“I spent nine months in Hell Gordon. I’m not going to shatter.” He says that with more malice, more venom than he intended. He doesn’t apologize. He turns and leaves with the files.

Later that night Todd joins him after patrol. When Damian was supposed to head home and sleep.

He didn’t sleep.

So there was no point in heading home. 

Instead, he sat on top of a building in central Gotham. The one area in Gotham the Bats didn’t patrol all that often as it had the lowest crime rate. A lot of police. A lot of private bodyguards. A lot of security systems. Rich people who didn’t need their help.

Because of this, Damian knows Todd is only in the area because of him.

Damian says nothing as Todd sits down beside him. Neither say anything for a long time. 

Todd breaks the silence, “It’s a good hiding place. B won’t bother you in this part of Gotham.”

Damian scoffs, “Why are you here?”

Todd hesitates, “Oracle said you needed to talk to someone about death stuff. As the only other Robin currently in Gotham who’s died and come back, I figure I qualify for this death stuff talk. More so than any other of our family.”

Damian rolls his eyes, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Nothing Todd would understand.

Todd went to Heaven and remembers nothing.

Damian went to hell and remembers _everything_.

“Oh come on, there’s always something to talk about. Is it the weird looks the others give you when you joke about your death?”

“I would never do something so crass.”

“Okay. Is it the unsureness of your age since you were dead for a time? Only nine months but is your birthday suddenly nine months later or,”

“I am confident in my age.”

“Good for you. I sure ain’t. Can never decide if I’m 21 or 26. Oh! Is it the amnesia?” Damian sighs, Todd had amnesia. Damian didn’t.

Not that Damian ever told anyone.

“Oo, it is. That’s a bitch. So many people ask what you saw on the other side and all you got is blank. I remember dying and my next memory is waking up in my grave. Well you woke up in front of B but amnesia is still not fun.”

It was so easy to let Todd run his mouth. Damian could ignore him and he’d carry the conversation himself.

“I kind of wish I remembered where I went.”

“You don’t remember Heaven. It’s just the way it is.” Damian states with a shrug.

Todd chuckles, “You think I went to Heaven? Aren’t you sweet?” Todd shakes his head, “But, Nah. I doubt that. I was a terrible kid, I stole, I beat people up-”

“We all beat people up.” Damian cuts in.

“I beat up people who didn’t deserve it. I got my mom drugs. I did some pretty shitty things.” Todd states.

But he didn’t. He did what he had to survive.

But didn’t Damian do the same?

Except their situations aren’t comparable.

Todd had to steal to survive, buy drugs to keep his mom happy.

Damian had to kill to survive, torture to keep his mom happy. 

Todd was just a kid doing what he could.

Damian had to be a monster.

Damian is so much worse that Todd could ever be.

No matter his current actions, if Todd could see Damian’s past… 

Todd was still talking, “I bet I went to Hell. And whatever revived me removed those memories. How could someone function with memories of Hell?”

Damian wasn’t sure how he was functioning. 

Just that he had to.

“You probably went to Heaven, you grew so much in such a short time. Did so much good despite how you were raised.” Todd was talking out of his ass.

Damian could see it now.

He was lying to make Damian feel better.

It wasn’t working. 

And Damian hated it.

“I wonder if you think hard enough you might be able to hear the harps still.”

“You went to Heaven Todd.”

Todd chuckles, “You really think so? I think I might have beaten Dickie out as favourite brother-”

“It’s not a matter of opinion Todd. You don’t remember Heaven when you’re revived.” Damian had done his research after his revival, had learnt all he could. He had wanted to forget, but “Nothing could make you forget Hell.” 

But that was too much.

He shouldn’t have said it.

It was a mistake.

Todd was going to tell the others.

Give him meaningless platitudes.

But,

Todd chuckles rather humorlessly, “So you traded in one hell for another.”

No platitude.

No attempt at comfort.

No pestering for more information.

No attempt to get him to open up.

No delicate handling.

Just a stupid remark.

And it breaks something in him. Damian could feel tears gather in his eyes and roll down his face. Slowly. One by one. He curls into a tight ball, ashamed.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just tell me this, was is all fire and brimstone? Huh? Do I have to go tell Dickie the Catholics were right about hell?” Todd asks, sounding like he hadn’t a care in the world. Like Damian hadn’t just spilled the beans about where he had ended up.

“It wasn’t all fire and brimstone.” It was worse. 

“Cool. Wanna go get sundae’s from Papa Jones’s?”

Just like that, Jason doesn’t care?

He doesn’t want to know more?

Damian nods and gets up, slightly bewildered by his brother’s reaction.

_How?_

How could he be so calm?

_’Maybe he didn’t care’_ a traitorous part of his brain whispers.

But Damian couldn’t refute it.

Maybe Todd didn’t care.

He only came because Gordon told him Damian needed to talk to someone.

Damian silently follows Todd to Papa Jones’s Diner, they had the best sundaes in Gotham, at least in Todd’s opinion. Damian lets Todd order for him. He doesn’t really care about sundaes.

While waiting, the pair don’t talk. Damian thinks the silence is nice. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not awkward. It just is.

Clearly, Todd does not agree, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Damian asks before he fully processes what Todd asked. 

Once he did, the ‘what’ became quite obvious.

Todd didn’t judge him, just shrugged, “Hell. Whatever you experienced. I get not wanting to talk to Dickie or B. They have a tendency to overreact. So,” Todd sighs, “if you want someone to talk to who won’t start babying you or overreacting to what you say, you can come talk to me.” Todd scrunches up his face, “Just don’t expect me to be good with feelings. This” Todd gestures to Damian, “has already exceeded my daily allotment of emotional connection. So don’t expect crying or comfort or whatever you’d get from Dickie from me. You want that shit go to Dickie.”

Damian could almost smile at that. 

Todd _cared_.

He wanted Damian to talk to him.

No matter what Damian’s stupid head told him.

Damian knew Todd well enough to know what he really means.

“Thank you. I’d prefer if you do not share this information with anyone. Only Oracle knows.”

Todd remains silent when their sundaes arrive and didn’t talk until the waitress left, “Makes sense. I only talk about crawling out of my grave during arguments, so B and Dickie think I’m exaggerating. Talk about waking up in my grave to bugs crawling over me, losing oxygen and having to climb out on my own with no memory of who I was…” Todd thinks for a moment, munching on his sundae, “I don’t think B would let me out of the manor.”

“...They blame themselves for my death. I fell on Heretics blade, they were unable to catch me before I did. If they knew, they’d blame themselves more. They don’t deserve that.”

“And you deserve not being able to sleep due to nightmares?” Some of Damian’s surprise must of shown on his face as Todd adds, “I know that feeling. That look. Just cause I went to Heaven doesn’t mean my revival was all gumdrops and lollipops. Pit really didn’t help.”

Damian could see that. The pit tended to make everything worse. It would heal your physical injuries but make your mental ones worse. Your anger, your hate, your sadness, anything that could be weaponized was made caustic until you made it into a weapon.

Grandfather didn’t notice anymore.

Neither did mother.

“That cannot be helped. It’s a punishment for leaving Hell. The dreams will never go away. I will learn to live with them, as I have everything else.” 

Todd didn’t push the subject. Letting them delve into silence as they ate their Sundaes.

When they’re done Todd pays and they leave Papa Jones’s. Todd tells Damian to go back to the Manor. Even if he doesn’t sleep, he should be back home.

Damian doesn’t say it doesn’t feel like Home most days.

He doesn’t say it feels like he’s invading.

That he’s an interloper.

That he’s unwanted.

Todd wouldn’t like that.

Todd also gives Damian a card with a number hastily scrawled on it with the strict instructions, “Do NOT give that to anyone. Only you call or text me at that number.”

Damian pockets the card with a nod, and then heads to the Manor.

Four hours after he was supposed to be back.

Father wasn’t back yet.

Damian didn’t know how to feel about that.

After changing, Damian heads up to his room, clutching Todd’s card tightly in his hands.

Damian sits on his bed, looking down at the cardboard in his hands, thinking for a while before making a decision. 

Damian reaches into his bedside table, ignoring his phone and pulling out a lighter instead and heading to the bathroom.

Damian drops the still burning card into the toilet, flushing it down the drain.

Todd doesn’t deserve to have to deal with Damian’s problems.

He’s too good for that.

Todd doesn’t remember Heaven.

He doesn’t need to hear about Damian’s Hell.


End file.
